Curry

I did it, my last work is going to be published, and all of my hard work has paid off, all it takes is for me to write something that I am not particularly fond of.

My mom is pretty happy about it, saying that I can finally stop beating myself, and be miserable.

I am visiting Grandma.

"I did it."

She hits me with her warm and soft smile, "Let's celebrate it, I'll make something special for you tonight."

"Thank you."

"So, have you seen how much you progress?"

"No, I don't like that one, I write it out of spite."

"But do you enjoy writing it?"

"In some way, but I hate writing these cheap stories."

"So you like it."

"Because I like writing."

"I know, you've grown enough to appreciate something you make, despite hating the idea."

She rubs my head slowly like I'm a cat.

"Get some rest, you look tired."

Inside my room, I stare at the ceiling, what to write after this? Will it get adapted into something like a movie? I know it's too early, the books aren't even printed yet, but thinking about these things makes me excited about me, the author Hanamori Ringo.

I am getting closer to that dream, a childish dream of mine that felt like a pipe dream just a few months ago.

I think I will write something simpler but emotional after this, maybe even a romance story. I never experienced something like that though, I spent all my youth writing, and then spent my adult life working to death.

I have an idea of a couple who met in the countryside, one of them is moving from the city because of their parents' work. It is a small rural village, you can count the young people maybe in two hands. Every morning and afternoon they go together on a bus, and the rural person is guiding the city person on the countryside live.

Eventually, they confessed their love on top of a mountain, under the summer sky, and accompanied by fireflies.

I should write that, maybe, or no, I'll get some rest, I want to celebrate with my family tonight.

I wake up to a familiar smell that I have missed since I became an adult, it's a savory smell of spices that makes my stomach rumble. I think this is what she meant when Grandma said that she would make something special.

I come out of my room and walk downstairs to the dining table, there I see Mom and Grandma with a pan full of my favorite food. Curry.

I know it sounds nothing special, but if it's made by Grandma it is special.

I sit at the table, with a plate of rice and curry in front of me.

"Thank you for the food, and most importantly for helping me through these tough times."

My mom said, "That's our responsibility." Then to Grandma, "Right, ma?"

"Just come to us when you need anything."

"Thank you."

I am lucky to have a family that is always with me, even if I am maybe not spending that much time with them in my adult life.

"Let's eat."

Eating this curry, memories of my childhood rush through my brain: when I wrote my first story, when I showed it to Grandma when I showed it to everyone until I graduated from high school.

I wish to keep it forever.